


and it feels like home

by lovemeright (fishcakes)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Community: chenpionships, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, china line friendship, chingu line friendship, minseok and jongdae are in china and fall in kinda love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5632666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishcakes/pseuds/lovemeright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is terrifyingly easy to fall in love with someone who speaks your own language when you are drowning in a foreign city. It is terrifyingly easy to love the syllables falling from their tongue, the familiar words and familiar consonants, and to mistake it for loving the person themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and it feels like home

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted [here](http://chenpionships.livejournal.com/50743.html) for the third round of chenpionships. unbeta-d so all mistakes are my own.

“You’re a shitty teacher,” Jongdae groans as he buries his head into the book before him. Chinese characters forming a mess in his mind, when coupled with the complexity of pronunciation and strokes, left him with pounding temples at the end of every study session. It wasn’t like he disliked the language or learning; it was just that mandarin was complex, way more complex than the hangul he was used to.  
  
Luhan snorts as he snaps his own book shut. “If you wanted a teacher who coddles you, you should have gone to Yixing instead.” Leaning back in his seat, he watched the younger boy drag his palms down his face in frustration. It was a common occurrence when it came to their tutoring sessions because nothing frustrated Jongdae more than the intensity of his lessons with the Chinese boy.  
  
Jongdae had, in fact, gone to Yixing before turning to Luhan. As sweet as he was, Yixing had trouble explaining the more complicated idioms and terms to Jongdae and as much as Jongdae wanted to stick with Yixing, he really really needed to learn and comprehend the language. When left with choosing between Yifan and Luhan (Zitao was out of the picture in terms of tutoring because he was very much like Yixing, except for the fact that he got louder when faced with confusion), the latter seemed like the obvious choice to him because when one was to compare Luhan to Yifan, Luhan seemed to be the kinder of the two. _Seemed_. As it turned out, Yifan was the total softie and Luhan the slave driver, and as much as Jongdae whined and bitched, he had to admit that Luhan was an effective mandarin tutor.  
  
Expecting the usual kick that followed his statement about Yixing, the older boy casually shifts his feet out of Jongdae’s reach before aiming one in return right into his tutee’s shin. It was a routine of theirs; leading up to a round of seeing how many hits they could land on one another without making a sound.  
  
“Luhan?” The bickering duo turned towards the accented Chinese. Jongdae’s attention peaking at how Korean his tutor’s name sounded. He knows he isn’t the only Korean here in the university; he just hasn’t really been in contact with the most of them due to a difference in majors.  
  
“Baozi,” Luhan called out in a singsong tune, gesturing the other male to join them at their table.  
  
“Am I early?” The boy hesitates as he speaks, each word placed with an effort on pronunciation, glancing between his Chinese tutor and the stranger who was staring up at him.  
  
“Nah, Jongdae was just leaving. Wasn’t he, hmm, Jongdae?” Luhan stared pointedly at his student, shooing him away with a worksheet. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”  
  
Jongdae snorts, stuffing the worksheet into his book. “Yeah, yeah.”  
  
The other boy, Jongdae mentally refers to him as Baozi as Luhan had so sweetly termed him, offers him a shy wave as Jongdae shuffles by him.  
  
***  
  
The next time Jongdae encounters Luhan’s other tutee (‘Minseok,’ he reminds himself, the hard earned reward from Luhan for taking over dog sitting duty for Zitao, together with the basic knowledge that the older Chinese boy felt kind enough to throw in) was in the art history class that they apparently shared. He has never noticed him before, not that he ever had a reason to because he was seated in the last few rows, focused on scribbling out whatever was on the boards that their teacher had decided to leave out of her slides.  
  
He heads down to Minseok’s third row seat with every intention of introducing himself only to have a gummy smile being directed at him, coupled with a simple ‘hello, Jongdae-ssi’ in his native tongue. Jongdae only gets as far as to formally introduce himself to Minseok who happily chirps out that Luhan had told him about him and mentions his own name before their lecturer sighs into her microphone and tells the class to settle down.  
  
***  
  
“Hyung,” Minseok corrects him the next time they meet in class, eyes not leaving the notes held tight in his hands. Pop quizzes were a regular occurrence in their shared class, and Jongdae notices how Minseok reads through his notes before class starts regardless of that fact.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
The other boy’s eyes crinkle as his lips turn up into a smile. “Minseok hyung. I’m older than you, Jongdae-ah.”  
  
“Right.” Jongdae doesn’t believe him but nods before turning back towards his phone. Probably one of Luhan’s many planned tricks because he knows that the older male would have told him about Minseok’s age from when he gave him his name. It is until Luhan almost falls off his chair with laughter when he retells the tale over their tutoring session (“This is gold, Jongdae. You refused to call him ‘hyung’”) that the young Korean realizes that he had screwed himself over.  
  
“It’s not my fault that he has a baby face like you. Now he’s going to think I’m rude,” the Korean male groans, burying his face in his palms as the other boy reached over to pat his head.  
  
***  
  
It turned out that Yixing and Yifan knew Minseok as well, a fact that was conveyed to him over dinner. Yixing and him shared a few classes and thus naturally became revision buddies despite their language barrier. And Yifan knew him from spending his time intruding on those study sessions, an attempt in maximizing the hours he was by Yixing’s side despite his hectic schedule as council president.  
  
“He’s a very nice guy. A little shy though,” Yifan chews thoughtfully on a piece of carrot, brows furrowed as they normally were. “Probably because he isn’t that good with mandarin yet.”  
  
“Luhan plays soccer with him on the weekends,” Yixing adds, tapping his chopsticks on his lips. “They’re very good friends, and Luhan’s been helping him with his mandarin.”  
  
Jongdae nods as the two share more about the other boy in this foreign land, committing each and every detail to memory. He wants to know Minseok, he needs to know Minseok.  
  
***  
  
“Do you like coffee?” Minseok watches him expectantly, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm against the harsh evening wind.  
  
“Sure,” Jongdae lies smoothly. He hates coffee, hates the bitterness that lingers in his mouth, but he wants to spend time with the only other person from home that he knows. And he thinks that there probably would be something apart from coffee at the café Minseok was leading him too, hand warm in his own.  
  
They spend the next hour or two exchanging stories about themselves. Jongdae tells Minseok how he gets to know their shared circle of friends, a chance meeting at the orientation with an overexcited Zitao who had dragged an unknowing Jongdae to meet the other three. Minseok tells Jongdae about the first time he steps foot into the university only to get tripped over by Luhan who thought it was appropriate to dribble a soccer ball along a public sidewalk.  
  
Jongdae smiles around the rim of his mug, sipping on the warm liquid, basking in the comfort of the Korean language spoken by the older boy.  
  
***  
  
“How’s everyone?” He balances his phone against his shoulder, hands occupied with keeping himself alive in a game of League of Legends.  
  
“Baekhyun and Chanyeol are still stupid,” Kyungsoo pauses. Jongdae can picture his friend rolling his eyes at the thought of their other two friends. “But it’s quieter here without you, Jongdae. And– oh my god, get a room!” The younger boy must have covered the mouthpiece as he turns to shout at the two but Jongdae hears the words clearly. (“Stop making out on the couch, it’s public property! I sit there, for fuck’s sake!”)  
  
Jongdae’s fingers falter over his keyboard, leaving his character defenceless while his mind kicks back into gear. He knew, he always did, and yet he had hoped. He had hoped that the glances Chanyeol gave Baekhyun were nothing but platonic, much as how he hoped that Chanyeol would notice that he wasn’t sticking around out of platonic brotherhood love.  
  
Hope was stupid, he thought to himself. He was stupid.  
  
***  
  
Minseok is nothing like Jongdae’s type. Minseok was small and compact, with almond shaped eyes and a calm demeanour. He was nothing that Jongdae expected to find himself falling in love with. Jongdae doesn’t fall in love with him anyway, not the way the rest of the world expected them to.  
  
( _Jongdae’s type was tall and lanky. With large hands and big ears that stuck out. Dishevelled hair and old band tees paired with ripped jeans. With a voice that was deep, a laugh that was too loud and eyes that sparkled with mischief. With a personality that was too bright and a heart big enough for the whole world.  
  
Jongdae’s type was someone who went for a petite boy with puppy eyes, pretty hands and a rectangular smile.  
  
Jongdae’s type went for someone who wasn’t Jongdae._)  
  
***  
  
They reach the point where they were toeing the line between dating and friends. Study dates mixing in with actual dates. An extra place set up for dinner with Yifan and Yixing who happily welcomed the addition of Minseok.  
  
There wasn’t a label set on their relationship; they didn’t see a need to because they didn’t see a point in it. To their friends, they were a unit: Jongdae-and-Minseok. To everyone else, they were termed the Korean male couple. Between themselves, they were home.  
  
***  
  
Jongdae kisses Minseok with the intent to halt the string of Chinese words that flowed in that pretty voice of his. Jongdae presses himself against the older male, pushes him down on the couch they were perched on. Jongdae wants to make him beg and plead in their native language.  
  
And Minseok does.  
  
Minseok begs for Jongdae to touch him as he drags open mouth kisses along the older male’s neck. He whispers into the younger male’s ear, pleading for him to put his hands upon him. “Touch me, please please please.”  
  
Jongdae does.  
  
***  
  
He loves him, he loves him, he loves him.  
  
( _he doesn’t._ )  
  
***  
  
“Does he love you?” Luhan watches him curiously, sitting across Minseok at their usual table in the cafe close to their apartment building. They were supposed to be working on their philosophy paper that was due in a week but Luhan, with his wide pleading eyes, practically begged Minseok for a break.  
  
The older boy lets out a hum, tilting his head in thought. “Who knows.”  
  
“Do you love him?” The other male asks instead, curiosity dimming into confusion.  
  
Minseok offers his friend a faint smile in response and ignores the disappointment in the other male’s eyes as he pulls out the outlines he had worked on the night before.  
  
***  
  
“What did you think of Minseok-ge when you first saw him?” is what Yixing asks when they take a break from vocal training.  
  
Jongdae glances at Yixing, the older boy was watching him with curiosity in his eyes. He wonders if he should lie to this bright-eyed boy whose mind was filled with the notion of love and was lucky enough to find it in the form of Wu Yifan. “…Korea.”  
  
Yixing blinks repeatedly, surprise evident on his face, when he hears Jongdae’s answer. “Korea?”  
  
“Korea.”  
  
***  
  
Tao brings the news of Luhan’s request for him to take over Jongdae’s tutoring for the day by slumping down across the older male at least half an hour late into the arranged tutoring session.  
  
Jongdae raises a brow because as much as the younger boy has improved in his Korean, he highly doubts Tao would be any better than a Chinese-Korean dictionary at explaining the foreign words to him. “And why isn’t he here?”  
  
“I think he pulled a muscle or something. Minseok-ge’s taking care of him,” The younger boy shrugs, leaning across the table towards Jongdae with his lips curled up into a playful smirk. “You aren’t jealous, are you? Luhan-ge and Minseok-ge are really _really_ close. Who knows what they might be up to.”  
  
“Nah. Minseok is mine, Luhan knows that,” Jongdae grins as he flips his workbook shut, making an offer to Zitao to bide the time. “Come on, why don’t I teach you some Korean instead?”  
  
Jongdae knows that Luhan knows because it was just two nights ago that the older male approached him to tell him to stop leading Minseok along if he wasn’t serious about their relationship. And that if he didn’t actually love Minseok, he should let him go. Jongdae’s a greedy bastard because he knows that the boy he’s attached himself to deserves someone better than him, someone like Luhan. Jongdae makes sure that Luhan knows that he’s selfish when he tells the Chinese boy to the face that Minseok is his, that Luhan has no chance with Minseok while they were both in this foreign land because Minseok was looking for the same comfort as he was.  
  
***  
  
“You don’t love him.”  
  
Jongdae merely raises a brow in question, watching Yifan as the older man pours himself a cup of tea. He knows who it is Yifan is talking about, knows that Yixing was the one who told Yifan because Yixing cares too much and loves too hard to keep anything from Yifan.  
  
“I do.” He’s lying. They both knew it.  
  
“You love the thought of him, of having someone from back home. Someone Korean.”  
  
“And what’s so wrong with that?” Jongdae snaps, narrowing his eyes at Yifan. “What’s so wrong with wanting to find a sense of home in someone? What’s so wrong about loving that?”  
  
Yifan doesn’t react to the fire in other boy’s voice, simply blinking at his outburst. He lets the silence hang around the two of them, sipping at his drink as the younger boy stares at him, as if daring him to argue. “And what of Minseok?”  
  
“What about Minseok?”  
  
***  
  
Chanyeol video calls him one day, out of nowhere, contentment carrying through over the phone. He screeches about how dumb Baekhyun was when they were at the theme park, arms flailing about as he retells their entire date. “–and he was screaming so loud I could barely hear myself,” Chanyeol pauses, taking in a long needed breath.  
  
“I’m seeing someone,” Jongdae interrupts, taking the chance to stir the (one-sided) conversation away from Baekhyun, he’s done with listening to Chanyeol swooning over him. As Chanyeol peppers him with questions about the ‘special someone that Kim Jongdae is dating’, he wonders why he said it, especially to Chanyeol. There was nothing special about Minseok and him, not like Yixing and Yifan, not like Baekhyun and Chanyeol.  
  
Jongdae answers every question, lies through his teeth when he tells Chanyeol that “yes, I’ll introduce him to everyone when we get back to Korea” because he knows that neither Minseok nor him would need to stick around once they got back to their home country.  
  
***  
Jongdae hates it when Minseok practices mandarin with him, insisting that their–Minseok’s–idea of speaking only mandarin for a day every week would help him pick up the language better. He doesn’t care of the foreign words that slip out of his lover’s lips. He wants nothing but to hear the language of their home; the only connection to Korea he has here in China. He presses his lips to Minseok’s to shut him up. He drags his nails down Minseok’s skin because he sounds best (choking and stammering in Korean) when he’s wrecked.  
  
***  
  
He hesitates when Minseok says ‘I love you’ for the first time. Tethering on the edge of saying it back just for the sake of it or pulling away from Minseok, laying down the line of what it was they were.  
  
“It’s okay,” Minseok pats his arm, gummy smile still in place despite the lack of response from the other boy. He doesn’t care that Jongdae can’t say it back. He doesn’t care that Jongdae doesn’t love him. He doesn’t care because he wasn’t sure he loved Jongdae in the first place either.  
  
***  
  
Minseok sends him off at the airport, silence filling up the space between them on the cab ride down. It was out of habit that Minseok was even there in the first place; the comfort of being around each other had led to them forming this habit over the year they had been together. Jongdae spies relief in Minseok’s eyes as he checks in at the counter, his boarding pass was just another beacon of the coming end of what they were.  
  
There’s a lack of sadness regarding their separation (they were never truly together to begin with) when they wave goodbye to each other as Jongdae makes his way through the departure gates. He spends the flight scrolling through the inflight entertainment, allowing whatever it was between Minseok and him to dissolve into nothing but fond memories from his time in China. There wasn’t much to miss about what they had, a simple seeking of the comforts of home while in a foreign land.  
  
And when he touches down in Korea, he deletes Minseok’s number off from his phone; he doesn’t need it anymore. He is back to what he had found in Minseok, he’s home.


End file.
